I’m Just a dumb Miner – With armoured cars at the ready.

I’m thinking posting often isn’t suited to my lifestyle and the random types of work demand.  But I’m still going to try more.

Reaching back into last week on my last two days of the roster, the crew were in the mess hall eating breakfast (see dinner, being 4:45pm and all) when my mobile rang.  The number was a southern state, landline, and I didn’t recognise it, so I put the phone on loud speaker, laid it down on the table and answered with half a mouthful of mushroom and dianne sauce covered steak.

“G’day, John speaking.”

“Hi john, it’s Mark from ####.  I’m just letting you know the vehicle is on its way.”

“That’s great.  What vehicle?”

“Insert a lengthy description of an armoured car”.

What the fuck, did I win a zombie competition or something?

“Ah good, and who is this for?”

“Your prisoner.”

At this point, I was glad I swallowed the steak I had, 3/4 chewed before I asked.  Brett was now choking on his piece of peppered sauces steak after hearing that.

“My prisoner?” My face was described as ‘went from confused to cheshire evil grin in 0.2 of a second’ “… He was picked up half hour ago.”

“Well it wasn’t us.”

“The who bloody hell has our prisoner?”

“I don’t… We the only ones in the… Shit…”

“Nah mate, your right. You got the wrong number.  Have a good one bud.”

“Ah… Yeah bye mate. Sorry.”

I hung up and started cutting into the steak once again, I looked up and remembered I was sitting at a table with seven other work mates.  All I could say between mouthfuls was “What?”

Brett, long over his choking incident, asked “How the hell do you think so quick?”

“Raised that way.  If we couldn’t keep up, we were left behind.  My house was constantly a battle of minds and smartassery growing up.”

——

Continuing onto work after breakfast and the following two days (from what I can recall now) was just drone work. That is, until the drive home.

The crew I am on try to convoy the trip along to each of our destinations.  I am (along with another) am the fourth last to pull out of the convoy, so a travel along with a majority for 330kms every time our roster ends.

Not sure why, but there are three of us that always seem to be lead and it seems we are the ones who stop before the other 9-16 vehicles.  This time I was in the lead and after the first car we overtook, with the thumb out the window in turn signalling that it’s clear to overtake as well.  We were full throttle just making it in time for each set of road works were setting up after Christmas break allowing an undisturbed flow…. Until the range after Collinsville.

I was a little over the speed limit approaching the range, I noticed when I looked down at the speedometer, and a niggling feeling hit me to slow down to the proper speed, as oposed to maintaining the speed. So I did.  As I got closer to the range, the blue highway patrol cops peaked over the crest and suddenly the horn sounded behind me, the mate with a radar detector was warning me a little to late that a radar was on close by.  “Bloody drongo, I can friggen see it!”. I gave the officer a wave as each convoy driver and passenger did with great enthusiasm, apparently by the last car the boys in blue were waving hello as frantically as each of us were and a good smile on their faces.  Rule #9 of 12 when driving home, ‘wave at every police vehicle with the enthusiasm of a kid waving at a firetruck passing by’.  Yeah we get bored and need.to.humor each other on the drive home, helps manage the fatigue.

The drive from the range to the Bowen turnoff was taken at a steady pace, dodging roadkill skips and suicidal galahs.

I wonder if an old friend still loves to take pictures of dead animals on the highways.  I’ll have to ask and blog about it later if she does.

An hour later it was good to be back at home mucking around with the kids and embracing my domestic dumbestic goddess in my arms. And after a little kip, my break officially started.

~ by John the Aussie on January 19, 2012.